How does your body let you know? 

Here's how mine lets me know that the chaos is starting to overwhelm:
My... 
...eyes feel strained and tired.
...brain feels like an electrical storm of overstimulation.
...breathing is shallow or I'm holding my breath.
...adrenaline surges, making it hard to be still.
...chest feels heavy and tight with anxiety.
...shoulders and neck get tense.
...head begins to ache from all of the above! 
 
This is a sure sign to me that it’s time to step away from the phone, stop scrolling through social media, or reading/watching/listening to the news.  I won’t find what I’m really looking (or longing for) anyway! 
 
And no, I'm not not talking dissociation (disconnecting with reality) and ignoring what is going on in the world.  I'm talking about connecting with reality as it is experienced and revealed by our bodies so that we can connect to reality as it is outside of our bodies in a healthy way.   

What if we asked ourselves, "Who is the me I'm bringing to the world (and to the issues at hand)?"  Am I bringing my frantic, survival self or my grounded, truer self?  Which would you prefer, by the way?

How do we do we connect with our true self (hint: not through more social media or news!)? 
By diving under the chaotic surface of the waves (remember they’re connected to the calming deep but few venture to go there!), we discover our truer self.  In the deep we surprisingly find we’re able to breathe, rest (physically & more!), and receive what’s next (or what isn’t next).
 
Instead of my frazzled, overstimulated, chaotic mind making decisions, I can bring to the world (& all its issues) the contemplative mind…the mind of Christ.
 
So here’s some permission.  Dive (or if you’re extremely tired, sink) into the deep for a while. 
 
Still don’t know how?  Are you breathing as you read this?  That is your starting place.  Then maybe some Spiritual Direction for further exploration.   

“Must be hard being 10 and already going through dark night of the soul,” 14-year-old, Lainey, said as the two of us drove back from her fencing lessons.   
 
Her comment about her brother caught me off guard.
 
As a Spiritual Director, I companion adults going through Dark Night of the Soul, but I had not considered how children may, too.  I know that children suffer depression which in adults can coincide with Dark Night, but I had not seen Dark Night through a child’s eyes (even though our most memorable moments with God often happen when we are children).
 
For those not familiar with the concept, Dark Night is a stage in the spiritual journey that Saint John of the Cross experienced and wrote about in the 16th century.  He gave words to the “spiritual crisis” that occurs for those seeking union with God or to embody Perfect Love. 
 
Whether happening gradually or initiated through a tragedy or hardship, Dark Night can be felt as emptiness and dryness.  Our go-to spiritual practices no longer “work.”  Those activities and places of belonging that once brought us enjoyment, no longer do so.  We suffer disappointment, doubt, disorientation, discomfort, disillusionment, and even the utter disintegration of our thoughts and feelings about God, ourselves, and life.  In experiencing this loss and grief, depression can occur. 
 
We ask questions like, “Who am I?”  “Who and where is God?”  “What’s going on?”  “Why can’t things go back to ‘normal’?”  “What is normal anyway?”  “Will this ever end?”
 
This liminal space is entered into many times in our lives as we find ourselves in places and situations we would rather not be (like in a pandemic!).  We are in that “in-between” of who we were before and who will be after…it’s definitely uncomfortable.  My 10-year-old joins the rest of the planet in this communal Dark Night of the Soul.
 
He’s asking, “Who am I?”  “Who are my friends?” “Do I even have friends anymore?” “Will friends recognize me when I do go back to school?”  “Is virtual school even school?” “Will I ever play baseball or basketball again?”  “Will I even love sports again?”  “Things are too stressful in the world right now, is it always going to be like this?”
 
Now here’s what makes Dark Night different from depression.  When depressed, it’s a good idea to seek counseling and/or receive medication which hopefully helps us emerge from the darkness of depression with great relief.  And while there may be inner relief from the suffering (which is something to celebrate), there may not be inner transformation.  One may be grateful to simply return to oneself.        
 
During a Dark Night, rather than seeking a way out of the darkness, we are led deeper into it (a Spiritual Director is really helpful in the dark!).  This is the place where God loosens our attachments to all we may mistake for God, life, and our true selves. 

It can be painful to have these attachments revealed and painful to let go of them.  After all, we might really love being known as the athlete, whether spiritual or baseball!  We might cherish the feeling we get in imaging and relating to God in a certain way. 
 
However, when we emerge from Dark Night, we not only find relief but we are also transformed.  We no longer see or exist in the world in the same way we did prior to the darkness.  In other words, we do not return to ourselves, but are a new, truer Self!           
 
An expanded heart is the fruit of the Dark Night.  We see God, ourselves, and the world in deeper and wider ways and we are free to love God, ourselves, and the world in deeper and wider ways.
 
A different 14-year-old girl shared an image that came to her during our Girls’ Group-time of listening to the instrumental song, Unfolding.  It offers a beautiful and striking image of what it’s like to come through Dark Night of the Soul:

Anxiety.  Anger.  Heaviness.  Headache.  Nausea.  Nerve-pain.  Tension. Tears.  
My 14-year-old woke up way too early this morning and as we met in the hallway both of us bleary-eyed, she said, “Ugh, I’m feeling everyone’s collective stuff.”  “I hear you,” I replied.
 
This is normal.  We are all interconnected so you’re not alone today if you are feeling more than your normal share in this liminal space.  Jesus felt his people’s collective pain.  He shares in our suffering. 
 
However, at this point, unlike Jesus, we often go searching outside ourselves for a remedy that can only come from a deeper place within.  Understandably, we want a quick fix.  We want to feel better and we want others to feel better.  
 
So we are apt to compulsively scan the horizons of social media, news, books (even the most holy ones!), and other people (even the most holy ones!) looking for “good news” or at least a reminder that we are not the only burden-bearers.  But no amount of memes, quotes, or conversations can offer what that pit in our stomach is crying out for.
 
It knows something, that discomfort, that pain.  It has stories to share (for our bodies hold memory).  You actually don’t need any new insights, you need to trust the ones you already have!  So what do you already have?  What do you know in your depths?  I trust you know something to be true in your bones.  What is it?    
 
Here are some additional ways to listen to the wisdom within (God’s own Spirit dwelling within your own being, your own story, your own body).

• What if you turn toward the pain rather than ignore it or look for a way out of it?  You might tenderly place your hand where you are experiencing physical or emotional discomfort and listen.  For example, what is the tension in your chest saying to you?  What happens to the pain or sensation as you gently acknowledge it and “listen”?
• What stories from your own life (or stories from your family/ancestors) offer guidance as to living in and walking through hardship?  What sustained you/them? 
• When you imagine the current state of things as an ocean, what do you observe?  Where are you in the scene?  What is your experience on the surface/under the surface? Do you have any awareness of the Sacred Presence?  What insights are being offered? 

By the way, when I asked my daughter what she knew to be true in her bones, her worried brow immediately softened as perennial wisdom rushed from the depths to the surface.  She sang,  "Don't worry about a thing. 'Cause every little thing gonna be alright." 

Bob Marley, Julian of Norwich, Saint Paul, and Jesus, would all agree.  

More than I thought.

In 2009 I had emergency back surgery for a ruptured disc that caused the worst nerve pain I have ever felt...paralyzing lightning down my leg and out my right toes leaving me screaming.
   
After the surgery, I'd hoped the muscle pain and sciatica I had experienced on and off since high school would finally be gone...it wasn't.  I did physical therapy (having already done chiropractic).  Again I was hopeful...it didn't help.  

Whenever the pain would hit, I'd chalk it up to accidentally bending or twisting and tweaking an old basketball injury.  It would have me either in bed or on the floor with my feet up on the couch for days.  I thought my active life of hiking and carrying stuff (like my own little girl) was over.  I (& those around me) started treating my back gingerly, making sure I did not lift or do anything that could trigger that familiar shooting pain.  You can imagine what I looked like whenever I walked and sat down or did anything that included my back (amazing how much does!).    

One night at a breathwork class, after observing me, the instructor told me to read John Sarno's The Mindbody Prescription, saying it would help. I thought this was laughable.  I'd undergone the knife and physical therapy, how could a book help?  Undeterred she told me how it had helped a friend with my kind of pain. At the end of our time she said, "You're so young, I just don't want you to be in pain the rest of your life."  What did I have to lose?  I read it.  
I haven't been on the floor or in bed due to back pain since.  Seriously.  That was 8 years ago!

Over the past eight years, beginning with that book, I've learned three things: 

My physical self is interconnected with all other parts of myself. How I am spiritually affects how I am emotionally which affects how I am physically and all can affect how I am relationally.  What's happening relationally can affect how I am mentally and emotionally and physically and so on.  If we choose to dissect and isolate any of these when we have dis-ease or pain in any given area, we miss ways of healing that come when we consider the whole of us.   

A lifetime of being a "good girl" coupled with perfectionism affected my body.  It led to the suppression of anger and other unwanted feelings which finally erupted in physical pain.  My unconscious thought physical pain a better choice than emotional pain.  Locating an old area of injury and a socially acceptable place of pain (back pain is what ulcers used to be!), that's what it chose.  It's interesting the games our minds can play (thinking that they're helping us)! 
 
Seeing God as a Divine Task-Master perpetuated my good girl-perfectionist cycle.  Since we become like the God we adore (as I mentioned in last week's post), my inner critics had no problem replicating this God-like perpetual drivenness to accomplish and improve.  Be better.  Try harder.  Be (or at least act) perfect.  And it's no surprise that snippets of Scripture would often run through my mind to back up these "commands"!  Anytime I fell short, which of course I did since I'm human, I took the feelings of anger and shame and stuffed them. Eventually my body would no longer "play these reindeer games" (it began warning me in junior high but it took me a long time before I would or knew how to listen!).    

Now my body is my friend.  I view it as part of the whole.  It tells me the truth.  When I feel nerve pain begin in my toe, I know that if I don't tend to what feelings are running under the surface, it will soon start in my back.  My God-created body has invited me to not only reflect on my God-created emotions but even my image of God.  As my image of God has undergone healing and transformation, guess what?  It's affected my mind, emotions, relationships, and yes, my body.  Thank God for that gift of back pain.